


That Butler: Getting a Grip

by haldolhs



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Crack Relationships, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haldolhs/pseuds/haldolhs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A frazzled butler. A steward skilled in the art of relaxation. The beginning of an epic romance. tanakabastian crack-ship (or is it???)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Butler: Getting a Grip

That Butler: Getting a Grip

Although not yet noon, Hell itself would hang its head in shamed deference to the torments of this day. Sebastian, of course, had suffered them all while employing the patience of not one, but several saints. To do anything less would be unbefitting of a Phantomhive butler. Even so, the string of expletives he muttered as he raced toward the panicked bellows sounding from the kitchen would have made Satan himself wince.

_I will NOT disembowel the servants, I will not disembowel the servants, I will disembowel those lunatic imbeciles and wear their guts for garters they’ll look smashing with my boots . . . No! For the love of all that’s unholy, keep it together Sebastian!_

The Phantomhive household had only just returned to the manor from their harrowing trip to Germany the afternoon prior, all of them mentally spent and bone-weary, their utter exhaustion so tangible and heavy that even Sebastian anticipated the comfort of his rarely used bed and had promised himself the luxury of a short lie-down after he’d seen to the young master’s bath and settled him in for a much needed nap.

But then, of course, all Hell had broken loose the moment Sebastian opened the front doors. Before his young master could even step over the threshold, the whirling pink dervish of squealing excitement known as Lady Elizabeth flung herself against the earl with such speed and force Sebastian very nearly missed catching the pair before they toppled over the balustrade and ended up a tangled, bloody mess on the drive below. No sooner had he gracefully separated his lord from the clinging burr of his fiancée and ushered them both inside when he heard the red-faced boy strangle on a yelp and felt Ciel’s rage burn through the mark of their contract with such intensity Sebastian was surprised the glove encasing his left hand didn’t burst into flames.

With his first glance into the grand hall, Sebastian understood his master’s fury. In their absence, Phantomhive manor had been stripped of its pride and dignity, and degraded into a den of debauchery. A thick cloud of opium and incense smoke all but obscured the massive chandelier and covered the gaudy party decorations Lady Elizabeth had surely hung from every inch of ceiling in a ghostly grey veil. The marble floor was strewn with at least a dozen vibrantly colored cushions, half of which were occupied by scantily-clad, dozing women, and two others by a glassy-eyed Soma and a serenely smiling Lau—who wore Ran-Mao and nothing else.

Had Agni not burst forth out of the haze with sober but exuberant greeting, a shell-shocked Paula in tow, and immediately ushered Lady Elizabeth and the young master into the parlor for a light lunch and a spot of tea, Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure Ciel wouldn’t have spontaneously combusted, delicious soul and all. As it was, the earl managed to endure an hour of Lady Elizabeth’s enthusiastic company with tight-jawed politeness before promising his undivided attention for the whole of the coming Sunday in exchange for her imminent departure.

No sooner had Sebastian seen Lady Elizabeth and Paula to their carriage than he’d been tasked with getting rid of “those freeloading Indians and that drug-addled pimp and his whores. I don’t bloody care how you go about it, either. Eat them if you’re feeling peckish, Sebastian.” Given such free rein and thinking Agni’s soul might prove a delectable snack, indeed, Sebastian thought it prudent to delegate this responsibility to Tanaka, but the debonair steward was nowhere to be found. The rest of his staff, moving at a snail’s pace and still fumbling with the luggage, were certain to be more hindrance than help, and so Sebastian set about freeing the manor of unwelcome guests with Agni’s apologetic assistance and managed, quite selflessly (if he did say so himself), to see everyone off the estate with their souls intact.

Needless to say, after tending to his young master’s needs and comfort, which included enduring a two-hour long rant in which Ciel cursed Indian princes and the Chinese and the Queen Mum herself, and then preparing and serving his lord dinner, and then seeing him into yet another bath and settling the exhausted earl into bed, and then setting the manor to rights, and then finishing the unpacking the servants had abandoned, and then going through Lord Phantomhive’s neglected correspondence and organizing it by order of importance, and then arranging his master’s agenda for the remainder of the week, and then, and then, and then . . . Sebastian didn’t so much as see his bed, much less indulge in the luxury of the nap he’d promised himself.

An hour past dawn had found Sebastian at the stove lighting a flame beneath a kettle to boil, and in marginally better spirits than he’d been just moments before as he wiped the last trace of smoke residue from the grand hall. It was a new day, and they were home. The manor was spotless. The Young Master’s affairs were in order and the agenda Sebastian had planned for his lord was both optimally efficient and not overly taxing. Even though they’d succumbed to their exhaustion and utterly abandoned him without leave yesterday, the servants _had_ performed admirably above and beyond in Germany—especially Tanaka, whose strong and guiding presence had strengthened everyone’s morale, and whose wise council had saved Sebastian from what might have been damnable blunder in regards to his ailing young master.

Sebastian had heard the servants then, moving about within their rooms below, readying themselves for the day without his having to drag them from their beds as per usual, and felt further heartened. Now that they were well-rested and surely bolstered with confidence after having more than proved their skill and worth over the past harrowing week, perhaps a new day had truly dawned on Phantomhive Manor . . . perhaps it wasn’t folly to dare hope the household might make it through this first day, at the very least, with only minimal mishaps and minor catastrophes. Perhaps he might even manage that short nap he so craved while the young master entertained himself with a book as he so often did during the hour after lunch.

In that quiet, peaceful moment before the kettle shrilled, Sebastian smiled.

Since then, everything had quite gone to Hell in a handbasket. Snake and all of his slithering friends had been simultaneously afflicted with what appeared to be an allergic skin reaction to Hell knew what, and the footman had been laying naked in the east garden, his snakes stretched out beside him, “soaking up the sunlight” since after he’d greeted everyone with a bare-arsed and puffy-scaled eyeful in lieu of reporting dressed for duty, causing Mey-Rin’s nose to spurt blood all over a tray of scones and fresh croissants. The young master had refused to get out of bed with a surly, “Sod off, Sebastian. Get out before I order you to roll up your precious agenda and shove it up your arse. I’m having a lie-in today. Don’t bother me again,” and had since taken to “summoning” rather than ringing for Sebastian every twenty minutes to fluff his pillow or to fetch him a book or to freshen up his tea. Finnian, in all of his infinite wisdom, had decided to “prune” the 100-year-old oak that shaded the stables and had somehow managed to topple massive tree. While he’d had enough wits to shove the falling giant away from the building, the deafening crack and thunderous crash had so spooked the horses that they’d bolted from their stalls, nearly trampling Finny and destroying the entire west end of the vegetable garden in their quest for escape. Locating and retrieving the frightened animals had taken thrice longer than it should have, thanks to Ciel’s chronic and compelling interruptions. Sebastian had thought to place Tanaka at the young master’s beck and call for the time being, but the dapper steward was still nowhere to be found and his absence caused a most curious sinking sensation within the pit of Sebastian’s stomach, a feeling which whispered ridiculous reasons for cause and unnerved him much more than he cared to admit. Meanwhile, Mey-Rin had turned an entire wash-load of white linens pink with a red, lacy garment that might have been left behind by one of Lau’s harlots, although Sebastian suspected that wasn’t the case judging by Mey-Rin’s flaming cheeks, unintelligible babble, and sudden blindness which had caused her turn and walk full-bore into the china cabinet, effectively knocking herself out. Sebastian had managed to catch both the maid and the cabinet before they toppled to the floor, but he would need to “replace” a great many pieces of the china after everyone was abed for the night.

“I could smash all of their heads together and not come up with even half a brain between them,” Sebastian fumed as he darted through the dining room and into the kitchen. His hair was tousled, his tie was askew, and he stunk of embarrassed maid and frightened horses. His abused left hand throbbed as if stung repeatedly by an entire hive of Hell’s most furious hornets, and his stomach continuously flipped with inane demand that he drop everything and _find_ Tanaka, and now . . . now . . .

The butcher’s block was in flames, the leg of lamb Sebastian intended to slow roast for dinner a blackened, grease-bleeding lump upon its center, yet another damned flamethrower darkening the tile where it lay beneath the table on the floor. Bard bellowed obscenities at the inferno as he hefted a five-gallon bucket, water sloshing over its rim.

“NO! YOU FOOL! DON’T THROW . . .”

“Bleeding Christ! Sebastian!” Bard yelled, his widening eyes nearly popping out of his head as he leapt around the burning table and doused Sebastian with the contents of the bucket.

Soaked and sputtering, Sebastian killed the blaze behind the chef with a withering glare and then smiled serenely as he imagined a trussed Bardroy lying atop the charred block, roasted to perfection, a juicy red apple stuffed inside his gaping maw, a flamethrower protruding from his backside.

“Speak to me, man!” Bard’s frantic face filled Sebastian’s field of vision, his breath reeking of cigarettes as he grasped Sebastian’s shoulders and shook him. “How bad ‘cha get burned?”

“Burned?” Incredulity awoke Sebastian from luscious visions of his new dinner plans, and he pushed Bard back, stepping deftly out of the reach of those filthy hands. “The only thing burned here is a top-of-the-line butcher’s block and a cut of meat worth more than two of your useless . . .”

“But you were _smoking,”_ Bard insisted, his face flushed as his worried gaze roamed over Sebastian from head to toe and back again. “billows of smoke, black as pitch, with sparks snappin’ in ‘em, and your face . . . your eyes . . . on fire . . .”

Sebastian sighed, feeling his rage drain away despite the water dripping from his hair and down his face as he realized just how far he’d _slipped,_ and Bardroy, rather than being afraid of him, had been afraid _for_ him. Dumb as a box of rocks Bard might sometimes be, but he was _Sebastian’s_ box of rocks . . . they all were. “Might such a sight have been an illusion wrought by your viewing me through the flames, perhaps?”

“Oh! A trick of the eye, you . . .” Bard began, but his emerging expression of relief contorted into a mask of horrified realization. “Flames!” he cried as he whipped around toward the butcher’s block and then froze. “Oh, hey! The fire went out!”

“How incredibly fortunate,” Sebastian smirked. “Bardroy? Tell me, what is the house rule in regard to flamethrowers?”

Bard’s shoulders slumped as he turned and gave Sebastian a sheepish look. “Um . . . Not suppose tuh have ‘em.”

“Quite right. So perhaps you might . . . “

“I was just tryin’ to help you out ‘Bas, I swear,” Bard implored, straightening as he cast a loving glance toward the flamethrower. “What with you bein’ so busy wranglin’ horses and . . .”

“Enough!” Sebastian put up a dripping hand and sighed, feeling his rage all too eager to flare again. “Just get rid of that thing . . . and know that if I ever spy another one in my kitchen, it _will_ be _you_ I roast for dinner.”

“Yeah . . . okay,” Bard’s shoulder’s slumped again.

“And clean up this mess.” Sebastian growled.

“You got it.”

“And that’s _Mister Sebastian_ , to you.”

“Sir! Yes, Sir _Mister Sebastian_ Sir!” Bard snapped to attention and saluted, but Sebastian saw him bite back a grin.

Once more, Sebastian smiled at the image of an evenly roasted Bardroy trussed and stuffed. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, and then spun on his heel and strode toward the servant’s entrance that led to the back walkway, knowing he was in dire need of quelling calm. For the fourth time in as many hours, he simply needed to see _her._

Reaching for the doorknob, Sebastian swore he already heard her lovely, rumbling purr, as if she _knew_ how badly he needed her company and was waiting for him. And when he opened the door and stepped outside he saw she was indeed already there, but she wasn’t alone. Her purr wasn’t for him, but for another.

As the door snicked shut behind him, Sebastian froze at the sight of Tanaka sitting upon the top step, sunlight sparkling over the streaks of vibrant silver shot through his lush, greyed hair, his long, elegant fingers stroking over the belly of the black cat stretched out on her back upon his lap. Sebastian’s gut, which had been harassing him about locating his senior all day, turned another sudden flip, and his blood heated with an emotion Sebastian immediately recognized as jealousy, although he was stunned to realize it burned both in response to his cat’s infidelity _and_ to Tanaka’s bestowing of affection upon her.

“She tells me you’ve been having one _Hell_ of a day,” Tanaka said, the rich, refined timbre of his voice every inch as soothing as the betraying minx’s purr . . . perhaps even more so.

“ _Does_ she, now?” Sebastian managed to convey the appropriate amount of smirk within his tone, although his legs felt inexplicably weak as he stared at the back of Tanaka’s head.

“Indeed. It might be best if you refrained from referring to the young master as ‘that impertinent, bullocks-busting brat who I should have devoured on sight,’ in the future. This one would never betray you, but she tells me you are rather loose with your affections and there are others who would readily spill your secrets to your adversaries for no more than a scrap of dried grizzle.”

Perhaps he should have been stunned speechless, but instead Sebastian felt as if he’d been given affirmation of a subconscious suspicion. “It seems my confidante _has_ betrayed me, though, wouldn’t you agree? Or am I to believe you’ve been lurking about, listening in on our private conversations without my sensing your presence?”

“Ho, ho, ho!” Tanaka chortled, shifting his lithe body and turning his head at long last to pierce Sebastian with his wizened, dark chocolate gaze. “You might think such a feat would require superior preternatural stealth, but your senses haven’t been as keen as you’ve let yourself believe, just lately. ‘Lurking about’ unnoticed hasn’t been at all difficult for one such as I.” He patted the space on the step beside him. “Come, Sebastian. She much prefers your lap to mine, and her patience wears thin.”

That Tanaka was more than a mere man, Sebastian no longer doubted, although just what type of being Tanaka was he couldn’t decipher, for his eyes stubbornly refused to see beyond the chiseled regality of Tanaka’s handsome face and he could sense nothing ‘other’ in the man’s aura, which was more brilliant than most, but muted in comparison to his young master’s. It was a powerful façade, indeed, to betray no hint of truth, and Sebastian knew he should take threat—to feel wary, at the very least, but all he felt was an inane desire to be the cat stretched out on Tanaka’s lap.

And, much like a cat enticed by a saucer of warm milk, Sebastian couldn’t deny his compulsion to accept Tanaka’s invitation any longer, although he silently chastised himself to keep a firm lid on the needful ache welling up within him—an ache he realized he’d been unconsciously stifling even as it built over the past three years—as he sat down on the step beside Tanaka. “I’ve noted your absence since yesterday afternoon, Sir. Would you have me believe my awareness has so degraded that I wouldn’t see you even when I was actively looking for you?”

“Actually, I’ve only just returned. This one ran up to greet me at the gate. She’s very concerned about you,” Tanaka chuckled, quickly dropping his hands to his sides as the she in question flipped onto her front, stood, stretched, and then sauntered from his lap onto Sebastian’s, where she curled into a sleek, black ball and began purring anew.

Sebastian stroked her absently, much more aware of the gloved hand resting on the step a mere whisper away from his own than of the cat rumbling beneath his other palm. “So you’d have me believe she actually _spoke_ to you.”

Tanaka held Sebastian’s skeptical stare firmly and gave him a wry smile. “Of course. She speaks to _you_ , does she not? Not with words, of course, but in her own comprehensible way.”

Sebastian’s head spun with a thousand questions all begging to be asked at once, but the one that rolled from his tongue was, “Where have you been?”

“Ho ho ho!” Tanaka laughed and patted Sebastian’s hand, sending sparks of delightful electricity up his arm and down over his spine. “I wouldn’t dream of bothering you with something so trifling as my comings and goings, for I never go too far, nor am I ever gone overlong. You have quite enough on your plate as it is, managing this chaotic household and keeping pace with our industrious young master. He’s quite the taxing handful, I know. So very much like his father before him, and his grandmother before _him,_ but with even more of that aggressive Phantomhive obstinacy and determination. I can’t say I envy your position, Sebastian. Far be it from me to concern you with the details of my insignificant errands.”

Questions begot questions begot questions, and Sebastian’s hand clenched into a fist atop the cat as he stifled the urge to shake all the answers out of the tantalizing enigma sitting beside him. “As a member of _my_ staff, I would think all of your ‘errands,’ if in regards to the household, are most certainly _my_ concern, as are your whereabouts should you need to take leave of the manor for reasons pertaining to the Phantomhive family or otherwise.”

“Ah.” Tanaka smiled. “You seem to forget that I am your senior the moment it suits you. Yet your whims don’t negate the fact that while you do, indeed, run the household, it is I who oversee _you._ You are my primary concern, now, Sebastian. And while you’re doing one _Hell_ of a job, it has not escaped my notice that you are in dire need of some relaxation and relief of stress.”

“Relaxation?” Sebastian sneered, ignoring the nose nudging at his closed fist, demanding more stroking attention. “I haven’t the time for . . .”

“Shh,” Tanaka said, and Sebastian barely saw the man’s hand rise between them before he felt it stroking over the back of his damp hair. Immediately, he imagined how Tanaka’s hand might feel, sans glove, stroking over . . . _other_ parts of his body, and he shifted abruptly, earning a surprised mewl from the lady on his lap.

“That will be all, my dear,” Tanaka said to the cat. “I’ll take it from here. He’s in good hands, I assure you.”

With a quick lick to Sebastian’s gloved fist, the cat slinked out from under his hand and leapt to the ground below. Her tail held high, she didn’t look back before she disappeared into the foliage beside the walkway.

“What _are_ you?” Sebastian murmured.

“I’m simply one _Hell_ of a butler,” Tanaka smirked. “Retired, but still a butler nonetheless.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you are . . .”

“I believe we’ve had our fill of questions for the time being,” Tanaka said, firmly, his eyes twinkling with the smile the set of his full lips refused to bestow. “All the answers will be known in good time, Sebastian, and we’ll have plenty of it, you and I. As for now . . . “

Tanaka was suddenly _behind_ him, deft fingers easing the sodden tailcoat from Sebastian’s shoulders before they sank into the tense muscles on either side of his neck. Tanaka began to rub, slow and deep, and Sebastian felt himself melting beneath those strong, skilled hands, a low rumble rising from his chest unbidden.

“Ah, yes,” Tanaka crooned. “Allow your tension leave, Sebastian. Relax your hands and let it drain out through your fingers.”

Although he was no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, Sebastian had been quite ignorant that any physical experience while within his human form could feel so . . . so, “Uhhh . . . ”

“Yes. This will do quite nicely for a start,” Tanaka murmured close enough to Sebastian’s ear that he felt the words vibrate as he heard them. “You’ll come to my rooms tonight, after you’ve seen the young master to bed, and we’ll begin our work on the rest of your body.”

“Uh . . .are you . . . propositioning me . . . Tanakahh?”

“Ho ho ho! Such arrogance and cheek!” Tanaka chuckled. “No. As your superior, it would be quite unbefitting for me to even entertain such a thought. I’m simply giving you an order.”

Sebastian felt his lips curve into a loose, dopey smile. “And if . . .ahh . . . I were to . . . ahh yes . . . right _there . . ._ ahh . . . proposition _you?_ ”

“Play your cards right, demon. Be a dutiful subordinate, and I’ll take you to places you’ve never even _imagined_ ,” Tanaka whispered, his breath hot against Sebastian’s ear.

Then those wonderful hands stilled and bestowed a brief squeeze before they straightened Sebastian’s tailcoat back upon his shoulders. “Alas, I fear break time is over,” Tanaka declared with a groan as he rose to his feet. “Granted, these ears aren’t what they used to be, but I do believe I hear china shattering across the kitchen floor.”

With an exasperated groan, Sebastian moved to follow suit, only to discover his legs felt boneless while another part of his anatomy was quite hard, indeed. “I’m afraid I may need a minute.”

“Undoubtedly,” Tanaka said, his voice rich with smug satisfaction. “Then I’d best go and head our lovely Mey-Rin off at the pass, so eager she is to confess her latest blunder to her dashing Mr. Sebastian, and Bardroy is, at this very moment, pointing her in the right direction.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Don’t forget your orders,” Tanaka reminded as he opened the door. Mey-Rin’s wailed apologies rang out upon air for a moment before he stepped inside and closed the door blissfully shut of them.

“More broken china,” Sebastian muttered, shaking his head as he mentally added its replacement to the growing to-do list of chores awaiting him after he’d seen to Ciel’s nighttime rituals. There was the china in the cabinet to tend to, of course, and the restoration of the butcher’s block, and the removal of the flamethrower from its inevitable hiding place beneath Bard’s bed, and yet more neglected correspondence to sort through, not to mention the revision of the young master’s rebuked agenda . . .

Sebastian shook his head again as he stood, and grinned. “I suppose it will all just have to wait.”

 


End file.
